


Foot Race

by Mightybignein (Blueberryshortcake)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blumentrio, Eadwulf POV, F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Multi, Spoilers 128, Warning for reference to Caleb's backstory, Wulf's deeply indoctrinated, but still loves his friends, not a hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberryshortcake/pseuds/Mightybignein
Summary: Eadwulf remembers the past while running up Tidepeak Tower. His conflicted heart struggles between the good of his country and his dearest ones.
Relationships: Astrid/Eodwulf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Foot Race

Astrid was always the fastest of the three.

Eadwulf was built for power and distance. He could go on running half a day and not grow tired. Bren and Astrid were sprinters, both small and quick. Both competitive. 

Eadwulf always lost the friendly races between them from the commissary to the dorms. He was never sore about it. Sometimes he wouldn’t even bother taking part and only watch the two of them with a softness in his heart as Astrid would once again beat Bren by a step and grin at them both. “Better luck next time boys.” 

Bren would catch his breath and shrug with good humour. “One day I’ll be faster.”

“Not if you keep exercise on the lower side of your priorities,” Eadwulf would give him a friendly shove. “One of the Empire’s best and brightest and you’re too skinny. Next time we go home we should put you in the fields.” 

Astrid would laugh. “Can you imagine Bren in the fields? Getting dirt on his clothes?”

“I can get dirty if need be,” Bren would have said.

The memory played in time with his steps up the tower’s stairs. Astrid had darted forward first. Muffled, panic voices came from above. They were here. He was here. 

“Be safe!” A woman’s voice said.

“Do it! Open the door, open the door!” a deeper voice. And then--

Bren. Reciting a spell. Shit. 

Five more steps and he was behind Astrid who was slumped in front of empty space, her hand outstretched, the crackles of magic still buzzing in the room. 

“Too late.” She lied. For her own protection, for his, for Bren’s, for them all? 

But she was always quicker than Bren. 

“Teleport?”

“Planeshift. He was holding a tuning fork.” Astrid had no emotion in her voice. 

“Perhaps the tower owner knows--” He began.

But before he could even finish the sentence he felt a force slam against him sending him tumbling back down the stairs.

“GET OUT!” An unfamiliar voice raged. The tower owner had awakened and he--he was strong--shit.

“Astrid!” He yelled. He caught her awkwardly as she fell into him as well. 

“Apologies! We are leaving!” Astrid yelled.

They pulled themselves up. Master Ikithon might be able to deal with this person, but it was unwise to go against an unknown mage in their own tower. 

Fire started shooting from the walls, hot as dragon’s breath. Shit! 

He quickly spoke a quick prayer to his Matron and a shield of black feathers burst around Astrid blocking the flames. 

“Quickly.” He grabbed her arm pulling her out.

“AND STAY OUT!” The little goblin yelled after them as they threw themselves out of the burning tower. Astrid was pale, just the smallest tremble in her hand. Fire was never good, but she had worked hard to not let it affect her. 

But  _ he  _ had been right there. Right in front of her. 

He squeezed her shoulder.

“Master, they planeshifted just before we arrived. We were thrown out of the tower.” He messaged quickly saving Astrid the burden of reporting in herself. 

“A step behind again.” Master Ikithon sounded neutral, but Eadwulf could hear the signs of frustration. “Even after years in a stupor he always comes out ahead of the two of you.” 

“I’m fine.” Astrid said pulling away. She was back to a straight posture and neutral expression.

“Are you?” He asked. They stared at one another, waiting for one of them to burst. Eadwulf had thought it would be Astrid, but as always he was slow to start but could endure for miles. 

“He’s shifted planes with no spells and--” He began.

“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “He thought it would be safer than here I suppose.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Although Eadwulf knew Master would never do anything permanent to Bren, his new … his new friends were another story.

He wanted to say a million things. She kept letting him go. She kept letting those people take him. People who had just admitted to being able to modify memories. If Eadwulf was able to cast a restoration spell on him would his smiling Bren be back? The boy he cared for? Not the sad eyed stranger who shared his face. Who thought more for their dead parents than their country. The one who had burned Astrid with empty eyes and a terrible wail. 

He could still hear both their screams.

“We should go,” Astrid pulled him out of the memory. “Quickly. We should report to Master.”

“Ja,” Wulf said bitterly. His heart felt torn. Bren would be safer with them. At least he knew what his friend might face with their Master. He wasn’t so naive to think of his Master as stainless with only good intentions. Eadwulf knew how he himself had been shaped and formed by that man. But he still believed it had been worth it. Their country was worth their pain. It was a willing sacrifice now. 

But Bren was unwilling and the image of him huddled in the corner of a cell vacant and terrified would never leave him, so he could not help but let Astrid do these things and be implicated with her. 

“If you care for us then--”

“Shut up,” He said softly. “Don’t you dare give me ultimatums about our relationship. You and Bren have always been too wrapped up in each other to see things clearly.”

Always too intense with each other. The most passionate love, the most terrible fights. Outdoing and one upping. That was how he fit with them. He grounded them both. Quiet and comfortable Wulf. But he felt for them just as deeply. They were  _ his.  _

And now one of his own was wandering an unknown plane with a giant cow man that spoke casually on memory modification for their own good. He wondered bitterly how Bren would have reacted to hearing that. 

He hated everything about this. Astrid’s wavering, Master’s machinations. The Mighty Nein who took his friend. What Bren had done and hadn’t done and how happy Wulf was that he could think clearly again and how terrible to see his back as he ran away from him. 

Why couldn’t it be the days when it was only friendly foot races? Why couldn’t the three of them be together on the same side? 

He was not a child. He knew why. 

“I’m sorry. I’m tired.” Astrid said. “I’m just… I’m just tired. I don’t doubt you, Wulf.”

“He wouldn’t go unless it was survivable,” Eadwulf said, to comfort, because as frustrating as she could be he still loved her. 

Astrid smiled wryly. “Or maybe he just wanted to win for once. Do you remember? I was always the faster between us.” 

Eadwulf forced a smile, but knew she was just trying to strengthen her lie. She had let him go. He appreciated her giving him some plausible deniability for that at least. The song house would have to be spun as being outnumbered and tactically retreating if they were questioned in depth about it. Trent trusted them though. As much as the old man trusted anyone. And to their credit they had never wavered before.

He imagined Bren’s smug face, that they would waver just for him. Little bastard. But the boy was replaced by the sad eyed stranger. 

That’s right. He’s not that boy anymore. He looked at Astrid. She was staring back at the tower. 

He had noticed. Losing Bren to insanity had made her harder, colder, more driven. As if she had to win for both of them. That she could never break because Bren had already broken.

He still didn’t feel jealous. Even now, not knowing if Astrid would do the same for him. Not knowing if Bren would trust his word enough to act on it. He was still apart of them. They were still his. He would protect them, but he wouldn’t lose himself and his beliefs over that love. Their Master was not a good man, but the Empire needed his brilliance, just as it would need Bren’s. 

Next time he would be the first to the door and he would take Bren back. No more protests. 

He would pray to his Matron for the haste of raven’s wings.

And maybe when it was all over they would be standing together again, their Empire at peace, their work done, and he would see his two dearest ones smile one more time. 


End file.
